Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Interrogation Part 1

Hey, sorry again for the delay...shit's been kind of nuts around here.

So...I interrogated him on Sunday...and the conversation was just...I don't know.

I went in alone this time. Lizzie took a sick day. Probably the only sick day she's ever taken without me coaxing her, but hey, if she gets to rest I'm not complaining. The chief gave me a quick rundown of what to say and what not to say, but we both knew I wasn't going to stick to that too well. Once I'm in that room, it's just me and Conaghan, and in my narcissistic mind, that meant free reign.

Maybe I wasn't exactly expecting him to come forth and admit everything...but I sure wasn't expecting this either.

I'm going to split the entire interrogation into three different entries, just because it went on for hours. A lot of it doesn't make any sense, but...well, just read.

(I went in and found him sitting at the table with his arms folded. Unless it was to take a sip from the water cup in front of him, he rarely left this position the entire time I was in there.)

S: Morning, Mr. Conaghan, I'm-

C: I know who you are, Detective Strahm. I was hoping to meet you today.

(He sips his water while I take my coat off.)

C: Having a good day, I hope?

S: Now that you're here, I am. We've been looking for you for a little while now.

C: (laughs) But am I really that important? I hardly think so...

S: Oh, I think you're important enough. Even if you don't want to admit it.

(Ten-second pause)

S: So where have you been? We've had your face all over town for the last month. You didn't return my calls, you didn't write. I was heartbroken. I thought we had something.

C: (laughing) So sorry, dear boy. I've been quite busy.

S: Yeah, I'll bet you have.

C: Well, not what you're thinking. I'm a busy man, Mr. Strahm. I have a lot of ventures to run. I run a very intricate operation-

S: Buying and selling goods across the globe, I know. And I know how you spend your free time. And that's why we're here today.

(Seventeen-second pause)

S: “He says more”. Care to shed any light on that?

C: On what, exactly? What exactly is it you're attempting to get me for?

S: Well, for starters, how about what these pictures from the crime scenes are doing in your apartment.

(I throw down the drawings we gathered from Conaghan's apartment, particularly the ones of the Mystery Man and the crossed-out circle.)

S: “He says more”. That's the message you sent me, right? You were asking for me. Well, now I have to ask... (I lean forward, looking him straight in the eye.) Do you see me now?

(I chuckle here; I crack myself up sometimes. But he never loses that smile.)

C: (referring to the drawings) These drawings are things I've done on my own time. I fail to see the relevance.

S: By themselves there is none. Put them with the same drawings we found in Victoria Krell's room, in Jessica Albright's journal, and on Sam Ford's walls, and it puts you as a likely suspect. Not to mention the connection you have with Sam Ford's father.

C: That is an entirely different business, and I hardly see a connection-

S: And I hardly see what a respectful businessman like you would want with three teenagers and a detective. But I can hardly see what business you have taking innocent kids from their homes, raping them, killing them, and thinking you can just wave some cash around and make everyone forget it happened.

(Thirty-second pause)

S: See this? (I place a vial of blood on the table) It's from the latest crime scene. You got careless with this one, Al. Those compounds you usually put in weren't here this time. You know what it is?

C: Other than blood, I can't imagine-

S: It's the same blood type as you. B positive. Though I imagine it's hard to be positive when the news is so negative.

C: (laughs) This is purely circumstantial, the blood could have come from anyone-

S: And yet it still tightens the noose around your neck, Al. So what was it, hmm? Were you tired of giving us the run around, you felt guilty, and you slipped up on purpose so we could find you? That's what I'm thinking right now.

C: You seem to think a lot, Mr. Strahm.

S: You know what else I think? I think the reason you didn't put up a fight when they apprehended you was because you had no intention to fight us. You wanted us to bring you in. Isn't that right, Mr. Conaghan?

(Twenty-two second pause.)

S: If that is the case, then why? You had a good strategy going. You covered up your tracks well. Untraceable blood, EMP on the station's electronics to grab Sam Ford, no one seeing you as you pick them all off one by one. So what did you do? Stalk them until they were at their most vulnerable, then grab them once they had gone past the point of no return? Did you grab a couple of buddies and decide to have some fun with some underage girls? And maybe a boy for that one friend who's so far in the closet he flew right past the turn to Narnia?

C: (chuckling, shaking his head) You think you have it all figured out, don't you?

S: Don't I?

C: No, you don't. You don't have a clue. You're only scratching the surface of what's really happening here. There are greater things at work than just you and me, and you can't even begin to imagine it.